Mexico-its border and beyond-has long held allure for expats, elopers, and fugitives. The antiquated rituals, the civil turmoil, and the tropical fecundity conspire in an intoxicating culture that offers sanctuary to the absconder. In cinema, Mexico is a welcoming haven where the hoodlum can disappear into the disorder of daily life, aided by corrupt officials serving a sanctioned demimonde of privacy and plunder. Noir finds this dusky place a simpatico refuge. Throughout the forties and fifties, fictive fugitives headed toward the border in desperate flight from apprehension. For some noirs, such as Ride the Pink Horse (1947) or Where Danger Lives (1950), the border is all, a lawless endpoint in a long flight from justice. For others, the interior lays bare its promise of shelter and either foils flight, as in The Hitch-Hiker (1953), or reveals unanticipated dangers, as in His Kind of Woman (1951) and Kansas City Confidential (1952). And then there is lurid love, lost or found below the border in Out of the Past (1947) and The Great Flamarion (1945), torrid and most often terminal. Going South doesn't just line up these noirs like guilty parties, but asks that we engage the overarching story of fevered escape into Mexico's landscape of lawlessness and mystery.